Flights of Fancy
by Connor88
Summary: Two strangers end up next to each other on a plane. They don't stay strangers for long. One-shot... maybe. UPDATE: Not a one-shot anymore!
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Little bit of a hiatus (oddly like Glee) but now I'm back. Yay! Or boo if you don't like my writing I guess. Hopefully yay though. Without giving to much away I just want to say that in Australia (where I'm from) our domestic planes have one aisle with three seats either side. Which is the design I'm using. Dunno if that how it is in other countries but whadda you gonna do? Hope you enjoy the story! :)**_

* * *

He shuffled slowly down the aisle of the plane; backpack slung across one shoulder and occasionally checked the row numbers printed on the storage lockers above the seats. He looked at the ticket clutched tightly in his left hand and double checked the row and seat assigned to him. He finally arrived at row 24 and looked at who he would be sitting next to for the next four to five hours. He groaned internally when he saw that the people were a mother holding a baby and her daughter of around four years old sitting next her. He smiled politely at the mother as he squeezed past her legs to sit in his seat next to the window. He placed his bag on the floor and opened it, pulling out his iPod before pushing his bag underneath the seat in front of him. He put his earphones in and started scrolling through his songs as the toddler sitting next to him watched everything he did. He looked up from his iPod and glanced at the child's unblinking eyes. She was really starting to creep him out when he noticed out of the corner of his eye someone was talking to the mother. He took one of his earphones out and pretended to study something through the window while he listened in on the conversation.

"… in the wrong seats." He caught the last of what the person in aisle was saying. It was definitely a girl's voice.

"Look missy, I don't know who you think you are but these are definitely our seats" That was the mother talking and she didn't sound very pleased. I guess I wouldn't be if I had to spend 5 hours of a plane with a baby and a toddler, he thought to himself.

"Look, it's says right here on my ticket 'Row 24 Seat E'. That's the seat your daughter is sitting in."

"This is Row 28. You're in the wrong place. Now please leave us alone."

He decided it would end the argument quicker if he stepped in.

"Um, actually this _is _Row 24." He said as he turned to face the two arguing women. That was when he got a good look at the girl who was supposed to be sitting next to him. She had her long blonde hair up in a high, messy ponytail and wore faded grey, skin-tight jeans, a white t-shirt and a purple cardigan. She looked around his age, about 19. He was definitely certain he would rather sit next to her than the creepy kid who was _still _staring at him.

The mother turned to face him, an appalled look on her face. "And who asked your opinion, young man?"

"Is there a problem here?" An effeminate looking steward asked as he approached.

"Yes there is. These two people have the wrong seats and keep bothering me and my children. I want them removed from the plane." The mother complained loudly to the air steward.

The steward rolled his eyes, clearly used to disputes about seating. He turned to the girl standing next to him (who was currently engaged at shooting daggers from her eyes at the mother) and then back to the mother. "May I see your tickets please ladies?"

They passed him their tickets which he then checked against the row number above him. He passed back the tickets and turned to the lady sitting down; who was doing everything she could to ignore the glare she was currently receiving. "Maam, you and your children are in the wrong seats. This row 24, you are seated four rows back in row 28. Please move there immediately."

The lady gave the steward the same glare she was still receiving from the girl before getting up and taking her children down to their correct seats. The girl watched them leave before turning to the steward. "Thank you…" She paused as she read his name tag. "...Kurt."

"Not a problem, miss." Kurt replied before walking away to attend to another dispute.

As the girl moved across to the seat next to him he turned his attention back to the window. As she sat down she turned to him and spoke: "And thank you for trying to help."

He turned and gave her a small smile of acknowledgement before returning his gaze out the window. The crew began the safety demonstrations and then made sure everything was checked for take-off. The plane began to taxi down the runway and he began to get nervous. He hated flying. There is no good reason why a huge piece of hollow metal filled with people should stay in the sky. He gripped the armrests on either side of him tightly as the plain began to pick up speed. The girl obviously noticed his change in behaviour and looked at him quizzically.

"Are you alright?" She asked, a look of concern crossing her features. "You seem to be sweating a lot."

He relinquished his grip one of the armrests just long enough to wipe away the sweat that had formed on his forehead. "Yeah, I just hate flying." The speed of plane increased as it approached take-off. She noticed his knuckles turning white as gripped the armrests as hard as he could and the rest of his skin turning pale. She watched him scrunch his eyes shut tight as the plane left the ground and flew up into the sky. After a few minutes when he hadn't opened his eyes again she became concerned.

"Are you okay?" She asked and in response got a couple of nods.

"Are you going to keep your eyes shut for the whole flight?"

"Mhmm" He replied in the affirmative.

"Maybe if you read the magazine that will distract you?" She offered, trying to help this poor guy.

"Dyslexic" Was all he replied with.

"I'm sorry?" She asked, not understanding.

"I'm dyslexic. Can't focus on the words."

"Ohh" She was trying to help but he was being quite rude to her. She gave up and picked up the in-flight magazine and started to read about the hottest holidays destinations this month.

"Keep talking."

She looked up at him trying to figure out she had imagined him speaking.

"Please keep talking. It helps." He asked her again.

"Oh! Um, okay… why are you flying to Columbus?" She asked him.

"Visiting family. For Christmas." He opened the corner of one eye a little to look at her.

"I'm doing the same. What are your family like?" She asked.

"Dad, Mum, younger brother, younger sister. Pretty normal, I guess."

"How old are your siblings?" She asked noticing his grip on the armrests easing up a little.

"Stevie's 16 and Stacy's 14. How about your family?" He asked as some colour returned to his complexion.

"Just my Mum and my older sister. Dad left when I was in high school, haven't seen him since." She replied, watching him get less and less nervous.

"That sucks. I'm sorry." He opened his eyes and turned to look at her before offering his hand. "I'm Sam."

She spoke as she shook his hand: "Quinn. Nice to meet you."

He turned back to the window. "Holy shit!" He slammed down the blind on the window and took several deep breaths to calm himself. He looked across to Quinn and saw that she was giggling to her hand.

He glared at her. "It's not funny."

She regained her composure and gave him an apologetic smile. "It was a little funny."

"So let me guess." He started. "You moved to L.A. and became an actress."

"I'm not an actress." She replied, rolling her eyes. Of course he was just going to be like every other guy with the lame pick up lines.

"Oh. Why'd you quit?" He asked.

"How many times has that worked?" She asked him.

"None, but it's always fun for me." He said as a lopsided grin started to spread across his face. "So what do you actually do?"

"I'm a script writer."

"Oh, done anything I would know?"

She looked down at her hands when she replied. "I haven't _actually _got a job yet."

"Oh." He stated awkwardly. "Well, I'm sure you'll get an offer eventually."

She snorted. "I've had offers, they've just always involved me doing things I wasn't prepared to do."

He didn't catch on. "What things?"

"You know, like… _things_." She raised her eyebrows suggestively as she said the last word.

"Ah, gotcha." He said. "Heaps of the models at the agency do _things _to get jobs but I've always thought it was awful."

"You're a model?" She asked.

"No. But thanks." He smirked. "I work at the agency as an assistant."

"You must love that job, hanging around models all day."

"Not really. Because they know they're pretty they think they can get away with anything. Half of them are really terrible people because of it."

"So why did you move to L.A.? You didn't dream of being an assistant when you were growing up did you?"

"No, I wanted to be a photographer or a cameraman or something like that. But you know, you can't just jump straight in the deep end. There's a whole bunch of ass kissing to go through first."

"Truth."

There was bump that shook the cabin and the captain explained over the loudspeaker that there may be some turbulence. Sam's hands had returned to their former position of being attached to the armrests.

Quinn placed her hands on his and gave it a small squeeze, to reassure him. "We'll pass through it in about a minute, I'm sure."

He locked eyes with her and smiled before letting go of the armrests. He kept a hold of her hand though.

* * *

They spent the rest of the flight chatting and getting to know each other, Sam almost forgetting that he was on a plane half the time. Then the captain came on over the loudspeaker, informing that they would be landing in around 5 minutes and due to wind it might be quite bumpy.

Quinn took a hold of his hand again. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Landing is definitely the worst part. Worse than take-off." He looked nervous again.

The captain had been right and the cabin was starting to move around. Sam was getting more and more uncomfortable, shifting around in his seat.

As the plane height dropped, Sam breathing began to pick up speed. He shut his eyes and leant back in his chair.

"Sam, look at me." Quinn said but he didn't move.

"Sam." She spoke in a much more commanding manner. "Look at me."

He wrenched open his eyes are turned to her. She looked deep into his eyes and she smiled comfortingly. Time seemed to slow down, just a little, as her pink lips separated and then joined his. They felt as soft as they looked and he lost himself in the kiss, barely even registering the plane touching down and then coming to a stop. Quinn broke the kiss and they slowly came back to reality as people began to disembark from the plane. They both hurriedly grabbed their stuff and joined the queue of people filing down the aisle. As they exited Kurt, the steward from earlier, spoke to them.

"I hope you had a nice flight." He said, giving them a wink.

Once they had reached the terminal Quinn turned to face Sam. She borrowed a pen from a lady waiting near them and grabbed his forearm. She wrote her number down and then kissed him on the cheek. "Call me sometime. Who knows, we might be on the same flight back?"

He watched her walk off and didn't see his mother cannonball into his side. "Oh my baby, I'm so glad you're safe."

His dad shook his hand that wasn't pinned to his side by his mother. "How was the flight, son?"

"Best flight I've ever had." Sam as his eyes followed Quinn until she became lost in the crowd.

* * *

_**A/N: So yeah, when I started writing this I thought it was gonna be a one-shot but now I'm not so sure... Let me know if you think I should continue it or just leave it there. Oh, and please review because it makes my heart grow three sizes.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_So, due to an very large majority (about 100%), here is the continuation._

* * *

"Over here, Miss Quinn."

Quinn turned in the direction of the voice calling her name, scanning the crowd before her eyes settled on the man calling out to her. He was dressed in a black suit, with black leather shoes and a black bowler hat to match. He wasn't yet an old man, around 60, but his hair was white underneath the hat and wrinkles adorned his face giving him a weathered look. He was smiling broadly at the young girl who bounced quickly across to him, grinning madly as she did.

"Charles!" She yelled as tackled him with a hug, causing him to stumble backwards a little.

"Calm down Miss Quinn!" he said as he patted the girl's back while she death-gripped his torso. "It's only been six months!"

Quinn pulled away from the hug and rolled her eyes at him. "How many times? You don't need to call me 'Miss' anymore. Just Quinn will do fine."

"I've called you Miss Quinn all your life, I see no good reason to stop now." He rebutted, as his straightened up his attire. "Shall we go and collect your luggage, Miss Quinn?"

* * *

"It's okay to admit if you were scared, I won't think any worse of you."

"Mum!" He groaned out in frustration. "I was fine okay? I just slept through the flight."

No way was he telling her about Quinn. She'd interrogate him about her endlessly for the entire time he was here. He was not prepared for that level of torture. He already rolled down the sleeves of his grey v-neck to cover up the writing on his forearm but not before his dad had seen it and raised an eyebrow at him. He had mouthed "Later" over his mother's head and his Dad seemed to accept that for now.

"I'm just worried about my poor baby!" His mother lamented as if he had been sentenced to death. He watched two girls his age snicker into their hands as they walked past and overheard his mother. He carefully peeled his mother off his body and held her at arm's length.

"Look, I'm fine and I'm back on solid ground so I'm safe." He told her in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

"Unless you get hit by a car." His father interjected.

His mother gasped and he glared at his dad.

"Dwight! How could you even think about something like that happening to your own son!" His mother smacked his father on the arm.

"Calm down Mary!" His father started, chuckling to himself at his wife's behaviour. "I was only joking!"

"It's still a terrible thing to say." She complained, landing another smack on his arm for good measure.

The luggage carousal which they were standing next to started up and bags began making their past the gathered crowd. Sam welcomed the distraction from his mother (who looked like she might attach herself to him in case any misfortune may befall him) and started looking for his bag among the many that were traveling past him. He looked down the line of bags coming towards him and saw an elderly man struggling to lift a large suitcase off the carousal. Not one to ignore someone in need, Sam approached the man and grabbed the side of the bag helping to lift it on to the ground

The man took off his hat and wiped his brow before turning to Sam. "Thank you, Sir."

"Don't worry about it." Sam said, offering a smile as he walked back towards his parents passing his bag along the way and lifting it off with one hand without breaking stride. He stopped in front of his parents who were currently engaged arguing about whether he had lost weight. "So, where'd you guys park?"

* * *

Quinn watched as Charles (who had insisted on fetching her luggage for her) struggle with the weight of the bag as he approached her, placed it at her feet and then stretched out his back. Quinn just shook her head, pulled up the handle on the bag and wheeled it towards the exit. Charles caught up to her as she waited outside the airport doors for him.

"So where did you park?" Quinn asked him as he was still catching his breath.

Charles walked forward and opened the door of the limo waiting directly in front of the airport.

"Are you serious?" Quinn exclaimed "I explicitly told her not to do something like this!"

"Ms Fabray very much insisted on this." Charles told her, somewhat apologetically.

"I think I'll take a cab there." Quinn said eyeing the bright pink limo with distaste.

"Please don't start off you visit by giving your mother an aneurysm , Miss Quinn." Charles said he waited for her to enter the limo.

"Fine." She said as she approached the vehicle and slid in. "But you're putting my luggage in."

"Of course, Miss Quinn." Charles said as he closed the door behind her.

Quinn looked around the inside of the limo (also bright pink) and sighed. Of course her mother would do exactly the opposite of what she asked. She spotted a mini-bar and helped herself to a scotch on the rocks.

Charles entered the limo through the other door and immediately took Quinn's drink away from her.

"Miss Quinn, you are not yet the legal age to be drinking!" He said as he placed the drink out of her reach.

"Charles!" She whined. "You're no fun."

"It's my job to take care of you and your sister. I wouldn't be doing my job if I let break the law now would I?

"No-one would know." She complained, crossing her arms over her chest in a huff.

"I would know, Miss Quinn." Charles pressed the button to radio to the driver. "We're ready to go when you are, John."

Quinn sighed as the limo pulled away from the airport; she was _definitely _in for a fun trip if things continued like this.

* * *

Sam watched the limo pull away as he exited through the airport doors, a parent on either side.

"Who would rent one of those things?" His father exclaimed. "They're just ridiculous."

"I don't get the pink." Sam said. "Black's much cooler."

"That's the problem with kids today. They only care about what's cool." Dwight said, shaking his head as they family walked through the car park to the Evan's family station wagon.

"Hey gorgeous, good to see your still running." Sam said, giving the car a pat.

"Yep, 20 years and still going strong." Dwight said proudly as he loaded Sam's bag into the old, beat-up car.

"Can I drive Dad?"

"Not a chance." Dwight replied as he unlocked the driver's door and gave it the required taps for it to open. He opened the doors for his wife and eldest before starting the engine (after a few tries). Sam spoke to his parents about how his job was going and asked them about theirs during the drive to his family home. It wasn't a large place but it was the best they could afford after Dwight had lost his job. They pulled into the driveway and Sam was about to unload his bag from the trunk when he was hit by a ball of what seemed to be made of long blonde hair.

"SAMMY!" Stacy squealed as he hugged around the waist.

"Hey Stace!" He chuckled as he returned her hug. "You're getting so big now! Are you as tall as Mum yet?"

"Taller!" She exclaimed and went a stood next to her mother to prove it.

Sam shouldered as bag and threw an arm across his sisters shoulders as they entered the house. He found Stevie sitting on the couch watching TV.

"Hey Stevie." He said to the back of his brother's head.

"Sup." His brother replied, waving over his shoulder.

"Wow, great to see you too." Sam shook his head and returned his attention to his mother. "So where can I put this?" He asked, gesturing to his bag.

"Oh, you're sharing with Stevie." His Mum told him.

That provoked a reaction from his younger brother who spun around on the couch to face everyone. "What! Why can't he share with Stacy?"

"Because she's a girl." His mother told him.

"So?"

"So she needs her privacy more than you."

"But…"

"Stevie." His father warned him.

Stevie flopped down on the couch out of sight. "This is so not fair."

* * *

"We're here." The driver spoke across the intercom as the limo drove through the gates of the Fabray Mansion and continued down the long driveway.

"Now, Miss Quinn, you are going to be nice to your mother aren't you?" Charles asked her cautiously.

"If she's nice to me, I'll be perfectly civil."

"Well, you do seem to have a habit of deliberately antagonizing her…"

Quinn gasped and adopted a mock offended tone. "Charles! Whatever could you mean?"

"Just please be nice." Charles finished as the limo came to a stop and they exited the limo. "You go ahead Miss Quinn, I'll bring your bag up."

"Remember it has wheels!" Quinn called over her shoulder as she strolled up to the big wooden double doors of the mansion. She rang the doorbell and a man who she didn't recognize opened the doors. He was wearing green overalls, gardening gloves and had dirt smears on his cheeks.

"Um, hello… Can I help you?" He asked her, his Irish accent on display.

"Rory! What are you doing!" A posh British accent floated to Quinn's ears. The owner of the voice appeared next the boy named Rory, wearing a full butler's get-up. The man turned and noticed Quinn. "Oh dear! Miss Quinn, I am so sorry about this welcome!"

Quinn sighed. Walter was nearly as bad as her mother. "It's fine, Walter."

"What's wrong?" Rory asked.

"Miss Quinn here is the daughter of Ms Fabray!" Walter explained dramatically.

"Oh." Rory stuck out his dirty glove towards her. "Hi, I'm Rory."

Walter quickly slapped his hand away before Quinn could take it. "That is _not _how you introduce yourself to a member of the family!"

Quinn rolled her eyes at Walter and stuck her own hand out to Rory. "Hi Rory. I'm Quinn."

Walter covered his eyes as Rory shook her hand and grinned. "Pleased to meet you."

Walter shooed Rory away. "Go back out to garden, go! And don't you dare get any dirt of anything."

He gestured for Quinn to enter the house. "I apologize for my nephew, Rory. He wanted to travel to America and my brother asked me to look after him."

"So you made him a work as a gardener?" Quinn asked as they stood in the entrance foyer.

"Well, I couldn't very well make him a butler could I?" Walter scoffed at the idea.

Charles approached the pair, wheeling Quinn's luggage behind him as Quinn's mother descended down the grand staircase.

"Quinny! How are you dear?" Judy Fabray called out to her daughter as she held her arms open for a hug, a half full wine clutched tightly in one hand.

"Fine thanks, Mum." Quinn replied as she hugged her mother. "Although I didn't appreciate the limo."

"Oh, come now darling! There's nothing wrong with a little style." Judy said as she held her daughter at arm's length and gave her a once over. "Speaking of style, what are you wearing? You look like a poor person dear."

"I look fine Mum. Where can I put my things?"

"Whatever you say dear. Your old room is just the way you left it as long as none of the staff have taken anything."

"Mum, how many times? No-one steals anything." Quinn exclaimed as she took her bag off Charles and started up the stairs.

"Oh, and your sister is up there somewhere, be sure to say hello." Judy said as she finished the last of her wine.

"More wine, ma'am?" He asked as he took the glass from her.

"Make it vodka. My daughters are here."

* * *

**A/N: **_Obviously this is not the last chapter. There shall be more! (and probably more frequently... probably.)_


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